


Glimpses

by ennta



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Annoyances to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Ficlets, M/M, each chapter will have an individual rating, this doesn't get explicit until halfway through
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ennta/pseuds/ennta
Summary: Glimpses into the life Renly and Loras lived together.
Relationships: Renly Baratheon/Loras Tyrell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	1. At First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlets I posted on Tumblr for Pride, now in chronological order!

Loras laughed out loud the first time he saw Renly Baratheon. The Lord of Storm’s End was barely a man grown; though he was far taller than Loras, he had not yet grown into his height, and the thought of squiring for this lanky young man with a self-important smile made Loras want to scream. He laughed instead.

“What is it you find so amusing?” Renly asked, his brow furrowing as his smile flickered.

_ You’ll serve the king’s brother _ , his father had promised, and Loras had believed, up until the moment he was escorted into Renly’s presence, that perhaps there had been a mistake and he would be squiring for Lord Stannis after all. He could have been sent to King’s Landing, where he would have been in the presence of King Robert and Barristan the Bold of the Kingsguard; but Lord Stannis had refused to take Loras on, and so he was here, in this dreary, miserable land, with a lord who didn’t even look old enough to be one.

“You,” Loras said. His clothes were wet and his boots were muddy and he was in no mood to be polite. “Are you even a knight?”

Renly’s smile disappeared. “I’m a lord, and that’s even better.”

“I don’t see how,” Loras spat. “Lords just sit on their arses in fancy castles and throw feasts and listen to songs written about braver men.”

“Take him to his quarters,” Renly’s castellan instructed one of the knights standing guard in the shadows. “See that he stays there until dawn.”

“You’re just jealous!” Renly shouted after Loras as he was led away. “Most third sons don’t have castles to fall back to if they prove themselves craven!”

It took a second guard to hold Loras back, and the castellan himself to finally drag Loras out of the hall and away from his new lord.


	2. Stronger Than I Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loras is a stubborn squire.
> 
> Rated G.

Renly leaned against the doorway as he watched his new squire struggle to push a chest from the foot of his bed to the wall on the other side of the room. The boy was a handful of years younger than Renly, slender as a sapling and pretty as a maid.

“Would you like some help?” Renly finally offered. As much as Loras Tyrell’s efforts amused him, helping the younger boy seemed a lordly thing to do.

Loras turned and glared at him. “It’s not heavy,” he scoffed. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“You look like a stiff breeze would knock you over,” Renly retorted, earning himself another glare. Loras had only been at Storm’s End for one day, and already Renly found him both bemusing and infuriating. It didn’t help that Renly still didn’t know why he needed a squire, or what duties a squire–especially a highborn squire–was meant to perform.

“Stiff breezes are all the Stormlands have to offer, and I’ve survived thus far.” Loras sat with his back pressed to the chest and used his feet to push himself backwards. The chest scraped across the floor, dragging a thick green rug with it, until finally it came to a rest against the wall. Loras slumped against it, breathing heavily. “There. I told you I didn’t need your help.”

Renly shrugged. “And I don’t need yours, but you were sent here nonetheless.” The two of them stared at each other in silence for a long moment.

“I suppose I should bring your supper now, or draw you a bath,” Loras finally mumbled. “Am I meant to cut your food into manageable bites, as well?”

Renly rolled his eyes and considered making his squire do just that. “Well, perhaps that’s one of your duties,” Renly said carefully, shooting Loras the most insincere smile he could muster, “but I’m not sure you’re strong enough.”


	3. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renly gives a command and makes a promise.
> 
> Rated G.

“Stop sulking,” Renly commanded in his best lord’s voice. It was never less convincing than when he used it on Loras. “Penrose says that I cannot send you back to Highgarden, and I won’t have you trailing behind me like a sullen mute.”

“I may be sullen, but I’m rarely mute,” Loras shot back.

Renly glared at him. “Well, I want you to be happy, and you have to do what I want.” He wished he didn’t sound so petulant, but so far his squire had succeeded in bringing out the worst in him.

“You aren’t even a knight,” Loras grumbled. It was a bone he kept picking at, a slight he kept returning to day after day, even as they trained for knighthood together in the yard. “How can you knight me, when you aren’t a knight yourself?”

Renly frowned. Somehow he had not thought of that. But as quickly as he realized his predicament, a solution came to him, one that would surely smooth Loras’s ruffled feathers, at least for the moment.

“Should you reach the point of knighthood before I do,” Renly said grandly, “I shall have Robert knight you himself.”

Renly’s words had their intended effect: Loras’s spine straightened and his eyes widened.

“The  _ king _ ?” Loras asked, barely concealed excitement in his voice. “You could ensure that I am knighted by the  _ king _ ?”

“Of course I can,” Renly said, though in truth he had little contact with his brother, and no sway over him at all. But the awed look on Loras’s face made Renly puff up with pride. “So you’ve nothing to worry about. After a few years here, you’ll be made a knight in the presence of the king and the Kingsguard–” Renly was acutely aware that he was making promises he might not be able to keep, but Loras was smiling tentatively now. “–and Barristan the Bold himself will watch as you are anointed in the light of the Seven.”

Loras’s cheeks dimpled as a grin stole over his face. “That would make me very happy.” He inclined his head in the barest bow. “Thank you, Lord Renly.”

Somehow the title sounded all wrong coming from Loras; he seemed sincere in his deference, but it placed him at a distance in a way that strangely discomfited Renly.

“You can call me Renly,” Renly said hastily, surprising himself. “That … that would make  _ me  _ very happy.”


	4. Dreams of Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renly has a nightmare.
> 
> Rated G.

Renly woke with a racing heart and burning eyes; he could almost taste the waves that had swallowed him in his dreams, could almost feel the pressure of the depths tugging his body down into the bay. He bit down on his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut, willing his wild breathing to slow down.

“My lord?”

Renly’s eyes shot open. Loras Tyrell stood at the end of Renly’s bed, a candle in hand.

“You were shouting, my lord. Renly.” Loras moved carefully around the bed, lighting braziers until the room glowed softly.

“Did I wake you?” Renly managed shakily. He hadn’t even considered that he might cry out when he dreamt of dying; he hadn’t even considered that his new squire, sleeping in a bedchamber adjacent to his, might hear.

“It’s alright. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” Loras tilted his head contemplatively, then grabbed something off the chest beside Renly’s bed. “Turn your back towards me.”

Renly frowned but did as his squire asked, sitting sideways on the bed with his legs crossed beneath him. Breathing still felt like the most difficult thing in the world. “What are you doing?”

“Brushing your hair,” Loras said, as though it were the most logical thing for him to be doing. “It helps with nightmares. You breathe with the brush strokes, see.” He ran the brush through Renly’s hair and took a deep, exaggerated breath as he did so.

“Where did you learn that?” Renly asked. He took a measured breath to match the next stroke of the brush, and then another.

“My mother,” Loras said simply.

Renly wondered if that was the sort of thing all mothers knew to teach their sons. He wondered if his own mother would have taught him, had the waves not taken her.

“Breathe,” Loras instructed sharply, tugging Renly’s hair just enough to startle Renly from his thoughts.

Renly breathed, and Loras hummed as he slowly brushed out Renly’s hair, and Renly’s dreams of drowning faded.


	5. Dreams of Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renly gives Loras a history lesson.
> 
> Rated G.

“–but Arrax,” Renly said, pointing up at a cloud that looked vaguely like an overfed dog, “was small, see, and Vhagar, well, Vhagar was  _ Visenya’s _ dragon, Arrax was just a baby compared to her, I used to pretend I was Vhagar when I played with Cressen as a child–”

Loras fought back a yawn as he watched Renly gesture at another cloud, this one also bearing little resemblance to the great dragon he was going on about.

“–and they fought right here,” Renly continued, “right over Shipbreaker Bay, and it started when–”

“What was it you said before you brought me out here?” Loras interrupted, squinting up into the sun.

“I said I’d help you study.” Renly sounded confused.

“And how is this helping me study?” Loras crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at Renly. “Maester Alyver isn’t going to ask me questions about which dragon was which, he only cares who begat whom and what color hair Jacaerys Velaryon had.”

Renly laughed. “It’s called the Dance of the Dragons, and you don’t think he’ll ask you about the  _ dragons _ ? The ones that danced  _ here _ ?”

Loras considered it for a moment, glancing out at the waves. The sky and the sea were both still and calm for once, and Loras found it difficult to imagine the great battle Renly was trying to describe. But when Loras looked back at Renly, Renly was watching the sky with wide eyes, as though he could see dragons warring high above.

“Alright then,” Loras said, a little gruffly, just to show that he was only slightly intrigued. “Arrax and Vhagar.”

“Right!” Renly’s eyes lit up. “It was a dark and stormy night, and Lucerys Velaryon had come to Storm’s End on Arrax …”


	6. A Warhammer to the Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renly and Loras spar.
> 
> Rated G.

Loras raised his shield a second too late, and the next time he opened his eyes he was lying on the ground and the sky above him was spinning just a little. Someone had removed his helm, and shapes crouched in the dirt on either side of him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Renly sounded frantic enough that Loras tried to roll his eyes, but a wave of pain and nausea overtook him when he did.

“What did you mean to do then?” Loras attempted to prop himself up on his elbows, but the man on his left–the master-at-arms, Ser Alyn Wensington–forced him back down to the ground. “Did you mean to give me a light tap on the shoulder? Push me over gently? Is that how you’ll win melees?” His tongue felt thick in his mouth, and distantly he realized that he was slurring his words ever so slightly.

“I dented your helm,” Renly said shakily, and Loras moved his head carefully to look at him. Renly had removed his own helm, and his black hair was matted back against his head and neck, slick with sweat. “I thought–”

“We should get him to the maester,” Ser Alyn said gruffly. “I’ll have the other squires bring a litter–”

Loras did sit up this time, shoving the master-at-arms away, battling the spots behind his eyes that threatened to drag him back down into unconsciousness. “I’m fine,” he hissed.

“Lord Renly drove a warhammer into your face. You’re not fine,” Ser Alyn shot back.

Loras gritted his teeth and put a hand on Renly’s shoulder, intending to pull himself to his feet. Instead, all he managed to do was slump down at Renly’s side, his ears ringing, his stomach churning. He leaned back against Renly, his head drooping against Renly’s chest, and made a mental note not to underestimate Renly’s speed the next time they sparred.

“Didn’t think you could beat me. Thought you’d be too slow with that hammer,” Loras mumbled, and vomited all over Renly’s breastplate.


	7. The Portrait Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renly shows Loras paintings of his family.
> 
> Rated G.

Renly had sat for a portrait on his sixteenth nameday, a portrait that had been unveiled at a great feast before a crowd of admirers. It had been hung in the portrait hall soon after, and soon after that Renly had invited Loras to walk the hall with him. It was the first time Loras had been in the portrait hall, with its blazing wall sconces and suits of ancient armor standing at attention between paintings.

“This is my grandmother, Rhaelle,” Renly said, stopping before a painting of a slender young woman with silver hair and violet eyes. “She was a Targaryen,” he added unnecessarily. “A  _ princess _ .”

Loras smiled at the pride in Renly’s voice. “She was very beautiful,” he said, and it was true; it was also true that there was something of the shape of her cheekbones echoed in Renly’s face.

“And these are my parents,” Renly said softly. The painting he led Loras to was done in a courtly, classical style that hardly suited Renly’s father’s broad, stolid form, but lent an undeniable sweetness to his mother’s plump curves and gentle smile. “They had this done soon after their wedding.”

“You have her eyes,” Loras said. Cassana Estermont’s eyes were a deep green that matched her gown, but it was not their color she had passed down to her son; it was the almond shape of them, the spark in them, and even, Loras thought, the brows they sat under.

“And this,” Renly said, moving on, “was painted shortly before Robert was sent to foster at the Eyrie.”

Loras studied the family portrait: Renly’s parents stood behind Renly’s two older brothers, their faces carefully and regally composed, their sons mimicking their bearing and expressions. Loras imagined a young Renly standing with them, and from the look on Renly’s face, Loras thought he must be doing the same.

“I probably shouldn’t have placed my portrait here, beside them,” Renly finally said with a sigh. “Robert was the next Lord of Storm’s End, after all. It’s only that–”

Loras looked from the portrait of the parents Renly had never known to Renly’s own portrait. “It’s alright. You  _ should _ be beside them,” he said softly, placing a tentative hand on Renly’s shoulder. “They wouldn’t want you to be alone.”


	8. Mother Rainwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renly tells Loras a story.
> 
> Rated T for references to violence and body horror.

Loras didn’t recognize this part of the rainwood, and something about it unnerved him; it was too quiet, he realized, and too cold. Moments ago Loras had been considering casting his cloak aside, but now he shivered and clutched it around him.

“Something’s wrong, Renly,” Loras said, looking around warily. “Someone must be following us, or–”

“It’s just Mother Rainwood,” Renly offered. He didn’t stop to look back at Loras, and Loras hurried to catch up with him.

“Who is Mother Rainwood?” Loras asked. The hair on the back of his neck bristled, and the very sunlight seemed to dim the farther they trudged into the forest. “Is she a woods witch?”

When Renly finally stopped, he was grinning. “I’ve never told you about Mother Rainwood?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Loras.

“You’ve never mentioned her, no.” Loras didn’t like the way the shadows moved around them.

“Well,” Renly said with obvious relish, “generations ago, before the dragons came, there was a great drought in the Stormlands. There were no harvests and all the rivers ran dry. Mother Rainwood lived with her family on a farm not so far from here, and she and her husband and her children wasted away, day by day, until–”

Loras would have rolled his eyes at the tall tale Renly was having such fun weaving, but the sun had gone behind a cloud, and the woods were still silent.

“Until?” Loras prompted.

“One day,” Renly said, lowering his voice, “after her husband died, she took her children down to Shipbreaker Bay and drowned them in the waves. One by one, she offered them up to the gods, and when the last one died–” Renly’s voice was a whisper. “–the sky opened up with the greatest storm since Durran Godsgrief built Storm’s End. But Mother Rainwood was a kinslayer, and the gods drowned her in the very rain she had summoned.”

The silence would not have been so ominous, Loras thought, if but a single damned bird would take flight.

“On sunny days, Mother Rainwood prowls this forest,” Renly continued, “looking for a sacrifice to bring the rain. They say she’s tall, her bones bleached white, with water pouring from her mouth and the empty sockets where her eyes once were–”

Loras gritted his teeth. “It’s just a story, Renly.”

Renly shrugged and began to walk again. “There’s a bit of truth in every story,” he said simply.

“But you’re not afraid of her, it seems.” Loras followed along at Renly’s side, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

“The way I see it,” Renly said, his voice much too light, “I starved as a boy and my mother drowned. Mother Rainwood and I would have much to talk about.”

Renly began to whistle, his eyes on the path ahead, but Loras only felt an even deeper, aching chill creep over his heart.


	9. Good Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renly gives Loras a gift.
> 
> Rated G.

“It reminded me of you.”

Loras frowned down at the brooch Renly held out to him. He took it carefully, testing the weight of it, running his fingers over its whorls and curves. It was heavy and ornate, fashioned in the shape of a rose, with an emerald gleaming in the very center of the blossom.

“It’s red,” Loras finally said. “My sigil is a  _ golden _ rose.” He couldn’t see why this expensive bauble had reminded Renly of him at all; he couldn’t wear it in the training yard where he spent most of his time, and it was far too extravagant for a mere squire. It was the sort of thing Renly would wear, and so Loras handed it back.

“You don’t like it?”

Loras met Renly’s eyes, startled by the disappointment in his voice.

“It’s very beautiful,” Loras said, wondering why he suddenly felt as though he were treading on unsteady ground. “I would have no occasion to wear it, is all.”

Renly looked down at the brooch as he ran his fingers over the delicately carved petals. A pink flush crept over his face. “I suppose you wouldn’t. And I’m sure you have a hundred of these back in Highgarden, anyway.” He smiled, but it was a smile that made Loras feel small and sad.

“I could wear it to feasts,” Loras said softly. He reached out to place his hand over Renly’s, the brooch cupped between their palms. Renly’s eyes lit up with relief, and Loras realized two things all at once: one, that he could read Renly, and lead him as he would an opponent in the training yard, provoking him to frown and blush and smile with unguarded sincerity; and two, that only eliciting the blushes and smiles truly mattered.

Loras took the brooch from Renly and slipped it into his pocket. “You’ll have to throw a feast for me.”

“As many as you like,” Renly promised.

“And perhaps next time,” Loras said, giving Renly a sly smile, “you could buy me a sword and throw me a tourney.”


	10. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loras is wounded. Renly tends to him.
> 
> Rated G.

Loras tried not to wince as he set supper out on the table in Renly’s solar, but the deep, throbbing ache in his side was impossible to ignore now that he was not preoccupied by his training. In the yard he had ground his teeth together and fought through the pain, but now he feared he had overdone it.

“Are you using the poultice Maester Alyver made for you?” Renly asked casually, pouring himself a goblet of wine.

“Yes,” Loras lied, and eased himself down into a chair.

Renly rolled his eyes and pushed away from the table. “Is it still in your room?”

Loras sighed heavily. “Yes, but I’m fine. I’ve had worse–”

But Renly was already gone. When he returned to the solar, he held a bowl of sharp-smelling paste and a handful of clean linen dressings. He set them down on his writing desk and nodded at the chair behind it.

“Come here,” Renly said. “Let me fix it.”

Loras rolled his eyes so hard that he gave himself a momentary headache, but did as Renly asked. He pulled his shirt off over his head and rolled his eyes again when Renly drew in a breath at the sight of Loras’s wound.

“It’s just a cut,” Loras insisted. He glanced down, pleased to note that the wound had not festered in the least. “See? I’ve kept it clean.”

Renly knelt in front of Loras and coated his fingers in the paste. Gently, he rubbed it over the wound, and Loras hissed at the contact. He bit down on his lower lip as Renly continued to work, until finally Renly wiped his hand clean on his breeches and began to wrap the bandages around Loras’s body.

If Renly’s hands had been unwelcome moments before, now they were strangely distracting; Renly’s fingers brushed Loras’s spine, and his other side, and his stomach, as Renly secured the linen cloths. Renly’s eyes were studiously focused on his work, and so Loras thought it safe to stare.

“There,” Renly finally said, his voice soft. He didn’t meet Loras’s eyes. “I think that should do. I suppose we can have our supper now.”

Renly stood and gathered up what remained of the poultice. As he went to put it away, Loras pulled his shirt back on, wondering at the fact that the simple pressure of Renly’s fingertips on his skin had been enough to distract him from his pain.


End file.
